


a beginner’s guide to harvesting sunflowers

by chyuns



Category: TREASURE (Korea Band)
Genre: Floriography, M/M, Non-Linear Storyline, aged up. they're literal thirty year olds, not quite slow burn… potentially more of a medium rare burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 00:00:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30012978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chyuns/pseuds/chyuns
Summary: jihoon could no longer see, after all, that his long-standing fear of facing the sun had led to him being enveloped in shadow to begin with.
Relationships: Choi Hyunsuk/Park Jihoon
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	a beginner’s guide to harvesting sunflowers

**Author's Note:**

> folks [slaps top of car] this right here is the result of too much time rotting my brain and obsessing over unobtainable perfection. it’s also my first CHAPTERED WORK. wow. 
> 
> i wasn't going to upload this, but a tiny part of my brain screamed "someone might enjoy it!" and sukhoon nation needs content.. not beta read by the way, call me a #girlboss. i'll shut up now. i hope someone enjoys this.

_‘Flowers don't worry about about how they're going to bloom. They just open up and turn toward the light and that makes them beautiful.’_

The air sliced across Jihoon’s arms like a knife as he padded along the cobblestones frantically, juggling a parcel in one hand, the daily newspaper in the other, all whilst his phone was tactfully pressed between his shoulder and his ear. Today he hadn’t even made it through his early morning mail run before the familiar vibration of his phone had disturbed him.

Snow, in abundant amounts, had settled across the neighbourhood in its entirety, the place resembling something you’d find within a tacky snow globe. The type that Jihoon had used to collect as a child. Though he lacked such a philosophical mindset in his younger days, it was nice to contain such an atmosphere into a tiny ball of glass. If only he was still as easily pleased as he had been back then, a souvenir providing levels of satisfaction he would be unlikely to replicate in adulthood, no matter how hard he tried.

“I understand that you’re frustrated.” He waved a friendly hand to a nameless neighbour, artificial-yet-convincing smile plastered onto his face. The one where he showed just enough teeth, so as to convince the receiver he was, in fact, a nice, polite, and not at all neurotic human being. His front was unwavering, even as he stumbled over a stray slipper with a lack of grace. “But you can’t fire a client for having an irresistibly punch-able face, Asahi.”

“Do you want me to get fired for punching a client?” A second passed. “Actually, don’t answer that.”

“I will answer that, and my answer is yes. That would be hilarious.” He meant it, despite Asahi being the last person he’d want to watch leave the workplace. The sewers of unenthusiastic juniors he’d waded through since he’d graduated law school had finally become a thing of the past when Asahi had strolled into his office, blank stare directed at him with his hand politely outstretched. “I’ll be in soon.” Jihoon threw everything in his hands across the counter, opening the cupboard to pour a bowl of whatever there was in the cereal department. Special K today. “Don’t punch anyone in the meantime.”

“No promises.” Asahi grumbled. The fact that he was already at work meant that Jihoon was definitely later than usual, especially so, as he heard his colleague begin to type on the other end of the line.

“Think of the money.” He spoke through a mouthful of cereal, cringing slightly as some of it dripped onto his pyjama pants, leaving a clump of milky wheat on his leg area. Getting changed into his work attire last was one of the few bright things Jihoon could give himself credit for. _Not_ that he’d spent his high school years consistently spilling milk down his front until he learnt his lesson a good way into adulthood. “I know he smells like mothballs but he’s helping us put food on the table for our families.”

“I’m considering using it to hire a hitman.” Which was probably his way of saying ‘ _what family?_ ’, because he and Jihoon were both single, at least as far as Jihoon knew, although his colleague was a man of few words and the rare times he spoke were often impersonal anyway.

“As expected from the master of delegation.” He yelped, stubbing his toe on the bathroom door as he struggled to move around the house at an appropriate pace. “Please stop admitting your future crimes to me, I don’t want to be an accomplice.”

“Stop assuming I’d get caught.” Was all he earned in response.

Jihoon blinked at himself in the mirror, as if he were a stranger, turning on the tap to rinse off the toothpaste he’d spat in the sink. He looked slightly more panda-eyed than usual, tiredness catching up to him as it was inevitably bound to do.

“Don’t mistake me for a fool!” He yelled across the room, phone now on speaker as he rifled through his wardrobe for something to wear. Five years of the same routine and he still hadn’t learnt to get his outfit ready the day prior. “I know you’re the fucker who stole my lasagne from the work fridge last March.”

“You remember the month?” He pictured the way Asahi was raising an eyebrow through the phone. The expression he usually wore when Jihoon was being Jihoon. “And I’ve told you twelve times, that wasn’t me.”

“You remember the amount of times I’ve harassed you?” He shimmied into his pants, scurrying over to the phone to whisper. “That’s what a guilty person would do.”

“It’s what anyone would do when they’re planning to file for workplace harassment.” And Jihoon just laughed, because he knew he was an insufferable prick, but harassment was definitely a stretch, given the fact that Asahi was the one who had groped him in front of their boss the other day. The feeling of Asahi’s hand on his ass was something he would have happily died without experiencing.

“Oh, please.” Jihoon fastened his tie around his neck, using the mirror to ensure it wasn’t as wonky as it had been the last time he’d gotten dressed without looking. He tried to avoid looking at his face, under eye bags worse than normal, somehow. His lack of sleep had inevitably caught up to him, as it always did. “Get me fired and you deal with that crusty old moneybag alone.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. “I’ll withhold the snitching until a further date.”

“You’re so kind, Asahi!” Jihoon was slamming his door shut now, locking it with one hand as he spoke to his colleague through the phone, his voice a couple octaves higher than normal as he maximised his capability to be annoying.

“Is that how you speak to your workplace minions?” Asahi typed something as he spoke offhandedly.

“My min-” He stuttered, caught off guard. Jihoon didn’t have _minions_. He had people who _liked_ him and were willing to go to _certain lengths_ for him, because they thought he was a _nice_ human being. It wasn’t his fault Asahi was seemingly less interesting to the masses. “If you mean anyone other than you, yes.”

“I’m the only one who knows what you’re really like.” He was being bitter, or perhaps he just took a bitter sip of something, because Jihoon had heard something that sounded suspiciously like a slurp through his phone speakers. Ever since he’d dropped his phone in the honey jar on his kitchen bench a few months prior, they’d been playing up. So really, it could have been anything.

“How blessed you are.” Jihoon sang, loud and bright. The sun was high up already, the sky a flash of azure that spread across the city. It was a nice break from the constant rain that they’d been getting recently, the middle of winter being merciless with constant downpour. The change of atmophere gave him the urge to throw his briefcase into the nearest trashcan and start dancing in the middle of the street.

I need to expose you.” The bitterness hadn’t escaped his voice and Jihoon hadn’t heard the slightest slurping sound.

“Why? To become my successor?” He plopped down onto the bus stop seat, using his free hand to cover his face from the sun. He squinted down the road, but with his glasses tucked away in his bag, it was useless. He’d have to wait until the bus was a hundred metres away before he finally saw it. “I’m not as dispensable as you may think.”

“I don’t think you’re dispensable, I think you’re disgraceful.” Asahi laughed. “And scarily fake.”

“Stop trying to figure me out.” Jihoon moved aside to allow a lady to sit next to him, smiling at her as he did so. She’d blushed a shade of pink, sweeping her hair behind her ears as she thanked him. “You’re three quarters as smart as me, and half as cunning. It won’t work.”

“You’ve seen a fiftieth of my capabilities.” He clicked his tongue. “You know that Lucy movie? That’s me.”

“You can move stuff with your mind?” The bus approached slowly, Jihoon moving to the back of the line to let the other passengers on first. “You should have told me. I’ve had a tennis ball in my gutter since Christmas and I don’t own a ladder.”

“If I could move objects, I’d probably move a hammer into your skull.” Which was oddly violent, and Asahi seemed to realise it too. “You should probably buy a ladder.”

“I should.” Jihoon hummed. “I’ve survived this long without one, so they really mustn’t be a crucial item in an adult household.”

“Because you’re the posterchild for how to do adulting.” Asahi retorted.

“I don’t appreciate the attitude.” Jihoon shifted in his seat. “And just so you know, I’m very good at adulting.”

“Didn’t you explode your shower with dishwashing liquid?” Asahi asked.

“Explode?” He spat. “It was more of an overflow kind of situation… It was an experiment!” He quietened his voice when multiple sets of eyes turned around to give him questioning glances. “I saw a video where these kids did it, and-.”

“The more you say, the more you prove my point.” Asahi cut him off. “Anyway, I can’t type with your foghorn of a voice filling my eardrums, so if I may…”

“Just hang up.” Jihoon said to himself as Asahi had already ended the call. He pulled the phone down from his ear awkwardly, switching it off and letting his eyes chase the lines of the buildings flying past the train window.

***

Jihoon hadn’t lived in the city his whole life, but he’d been there a long while. There was a somewhat short period of time in which his backyard was an endless abyss of vibrant green lawn, hilly and plush, with cows dotted sparsely across it. Sometimes the plant section of his local hardware store would take his mind back to his Grandpa’s vegetable garden. He and his father had spent a good week weeding when his Grandpa had fallen ill. Once the mere smell of a week-old salad container he’d left in his work backpack had triggered his tear ducts to react, uprooting the buried treasured memories his mind often withheld from revisiting.

Shifting from farm life to whatever the metropolitan lifestyle was, was simply odd. “ _It’s not as if you’re moving countries._ ” His mother had tried to console him. Emphasis on tried, because it most definitely was unsuccessful, but he never held that against her. He’d always appreciated her role as a step-in therapist before he was old enough to know what therapy was, even if her advice came from motivational poetry books she frequently leant from the library.

The smell of the city felt like an invasion on twelve-year-old Jihoon’s nostrils the first time they’d gone grocery shopping. Grey, on top of grey, on top of grey rows of buildings faded into the horizon until everything became a distant grey blob. Nothing was heartwarming about the streets lined with impoverished wanderers, and no uplifting soundtrack filled his ears the way it had to the protagonists in the endless amounts of movies he’d watched. The city felt like nothing. Unlike the warm that filled his belly when he reminisced the life he had once lived.

“What? You’re basically a local now.” Hyunsuk had said one time, ice cream dripping down his chin as he walked alongside Jihoon in the street. Their favourite place— the one with the shitty rainbow sherbet flavour—had closed down shortly after, leaving these dates a thing of the past. Neither of them had even been able to find the particular flavour in any alternative store afterwards, no matter where they looked.

A few years had passed since Jihoon had strolled onto the scene, and a part of him was almost beginning to like the city. The company certainly helped, but the city itself, alongside the opportunities it provided were certainly of a better standard than he’d used to live by. For starters, the library was huge. He’d dragged Hyunsuk around the place for three hours the first time they’d visited, making sure his friend took in every corner of the place until they’d mapped it out as fully explored.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Jihoon pressed the button on the crossing pole with his hip, something that Hyunsuk couldn’t imitate as he was yet to sprout up the way Jihoon had in his early days of puberty. “I’d only seen these stupid walking men in movies until I moved here.” He frowned at the red crossing man up above.

Hyunsuk flinched as he narrowly avoided a discarded hunk of gum on the pavement. “Well, where you grew up seemed nice. Nicer than here, at least.” His words probably lacked such a sad intent, but it still hit regardless. The city life was certainly less desirable than the one Jihoon had known in his early years, he knew from the countless tales Hyunsuk had told. They’d both lost a good part of their innocence by now, but Hyunsuk had certainly lost it far earlier than Jihoon.

“Talking about this makes me feel old.” Jihoon groaned, gasping as Hyunsuk pulled him across the crosswalk. He’d been distracted, a wildflower growing in the crack of a particular part of the sidewalk capturing his attention. Like a miracle, it was undamaged, surviving in the middle of the walkway despite the constant foot traffic.

“I’m older than you.” The ice cream was still on his face, and Jihoon reached out with the sleeve of his sweater to wipe it away absentmindedly. He hadn’t made contact with Hyunsuk’s face before his hand had been swatted away, Hyunsuk’s ears growing ever-so-slightly pinker as he scrubbed his chin.

“Mental age is what matters. In which case, I have the jump on you.” Jihoon smiled as Hyunsuk scowled. There was an inkling of fondness in his facial expression. He’d probably have tried to reach up and ruffle Jihoon’s hair playfully, had he not known Jihoon could just tippy toe himself out of the other boy’s grasp.

“Intelligence and maturity are two different things.” Hyunsuk explained. “Experience is another thing, too. I mean, how many street performers have you witnessed getting arrested for possession?”

“Just the one.” Jihoon nodded in agreement. They’d witnessed it together and it hadn’t even been Hyunsuk’s first time witnessing such an ordeal, apparently. Clowns were usually _on something_ , or so he’d been told. It was grim, of course, but they’d laughed over it until their sides had split open one too many times from being keeled over so violently. “So then, teach me the ways of the metropolitan, city boy.” He cooed obnoxiously, grinning at his best friend.

“I’ll make a city boy out of you.” Hyunsuk smiled, bumping Jihoon’s arm.

“I’ll never be able to show my face back home, if you do.”

“You can’t go back now.” Hyunsuk sighed. “I’m the only person who’ll tolerate you.” 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jihoon knew that returning would almost be as bad as never going back. His Grandma and Grandpa were dead, and a shitty hotel was a grim substitute for the humble abode in which he did most of his growing up. Eventually, the dialect he never knew he had in the first place would begin to fade, and so would his memories of how he once lived. Even as he entered his twenties, the place before the city would feel like the closest thing to home he’d ever had. It was as though, if he finally chose to let the place go, he’d have no home at all.

“I don’t want to go back.” Jihoon spoke, matter-of-factly. “Not permanently anyway.”

“Good.” Hyunsuk smiled brightly as they walked alongside one another. “I wouldn’t survive in this shithole without you.” And it was a lie, because he had survived for those years before Jihoon had arrived, but Jihoon still felt fuzzy the entire walk home.

***

“I don’t think a Doritos packet can exude the same emotions as chrysanthemums.” Jihoon popped a chip into his mouth haphazardly. “But to each their own.”

“It’s simple chromotherapy.” Asahi was absentmindedly playing a game on his phone, handheld fan blowing his hair up like someone in a shampoo commercial. The way he looked at the cheese flavoured triangles made his words almost convincing.

God knows how many days they’d been cooped up in their offices, going over the never-ending piles of assigned paperwork. It didn’t help that rather than doing it separately, the pair always opted to do it together, Asahi stalking into Jihoon’s office at the nearest available moment. “It has the better view” apparently, which wasn’t hard when his competition was the billboard Asahi’s office faced which was currently plastered with a diaper ad. Their productivity was halved in doing so.

“It’s the added MSG.” Jihoon corrected him. “The way they genetically modify that poor corn...”

“You and your plants.” Asahi rested his chin on his free hand. “If only you cared about humans that much.”

“Flowers.” Jihoon corrected him. “And flowers can’t talk, or commit crimes, _or_ break your heart. So beat that.”

“Well, the floristry path is still open to you. I know I’d love to see you walk out that door.” He beckoned to the office door, smiling sourly.

Jihoon laughed dryly, looking at the various vases littered around his workspace. “Chivalry is dead, floristry is a dying industry, and I can sleep well at night knowing crimes will always be committed and I will therefore be able to afford as many flowers as I please. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Touché.” Asahi put down his phone. “I wish my obsessions were as eco-friendly as yours.” He stared at the peace lily in front of him, playing spinning the pot around in his hands carefully.

“I suppose Pokémon is better than _meth_ , amongst other things.” Although, meth and the other things would probably be cheaper. Jihoon had almost screamed the first time he laid his eyes on Asahi’s decked out collection, mental calculator going into overdrive as he added up the net worth. Jihoon liked Pokemon too, sure. He even had a few plush toys, the odd pop vinyl figurine sitting around his house, a healthy number of items. Asahi, well, Asahi was a fanatic. You’d practically never see him excited unless it was about one of those little fictional creatures.

“You should become a motivational speaker.” They’d cracked open the salsa now, Asahi piling a mountainous first scoop onto a struggling chip. It was potentially concerning that Jihoon related to the poor chip, back breaking under his current nightmare of a workload. He hadn’t had a proper sleep in weeks.

“Nobody could afford me.” Jihoon flipped his hair dramatically, earning an expected eye roll. “Perfection is costly.”

“Perfection is unobtainable.” Asahi considered for a second. Pensive. “Yet Doritos managed to hit the nail on the head-” Jihoon should have known better than to think he’d actually say something half intuitive on a Friday afternoon.

“Enough with the American garbage crackers.” He snatched the packet, tossing it aside hastily, yet not so much that the remainder spilled. He wanted those garbage crackers for later. “The interns are doing more work than us. We’re being surpassed by first years.”

“Their rookie drive will die in the fiery pits of Mount Doom soon enough, and we will remain. Slow and steady wins the race.” And Jihoon couldn’t even disagree, because he’d made Asahi watch Lord of the Rings when they’d first met and every miniscule reference he made brought him tremendous joy. He felt like a proud father, despite both of them being almost thirty and not too far apart in age.

Later, when he’d rethink the conversation, he’d realise Asahi may have been slightly wrong. Only because slow and steady wasn’t necessarily the best pace to be travelling when you’re swimming along, tailed by sharks and weighed down by the self-doubt instilled into you by the system. But this had slipped his mind due to the pop culture reference. “Maybe so.”

“This asshole is going to be the death of me.” Asahi stared down at the file in his hands. Jihoon didn’t have to read a single word to know he was referring to their current client, an asshole in every sense of the word. The second he’d walked in, expensive in all of the material ways yet cheap in every way that actually mattered, the glance Asahi and Jihoon had shared was knowing. They were in for a treat. Not a Crème brûlée, or a toffee apple, or even a tiramisu, Jihoon’s least favourite dessert of the lot. But rather a dog treat, one of the chewy kinds that humans weren’t really meant to subject themselves to. The entire ordeal was bound to be a strenuous ongoing nightmare, and the amount of energy drinks Jihoon had consumed to get himself through it left his mouth tasting worse than if he’d actually eaten a dog’s cuisine.

“We’re going on a weeklong bender when this is over.” Jihoon proposed, knowing it was impossible. He hadn’t had a week off in his entire time at the firm, and cases were at an all time high. Nevertheless, Asahi agreed, as if they could convince themselves it was true, enough so to get through another day of sludge work.

“Cheers to that.” Asahi toasted the nearest available item— Jihoon’s trusty stapler— and hoisted it up in the air.

***

“I’m _fine_.” Jihoon pressed his phone against his ear, eyes scanning the rows of bread loaves in the grocery store aisle. The shopping centre near his place had opened a new supermarket and it had taken him ten minutes just to find the right aisle. “I’m great, actually.”

“Are you sure?” His mother pressed on the other end of the line. “You’re not lying to me, are you? Your voice sounds flatter than usual.”

Jihoon squinted. Since when had there been so many types of bread? Gluten free, dairy free, French, Italian, wholemeal, wholegrain, white, brown, rye… “This case is a shitshow.” He paused, flinching. “This case is a _nightmare_. Sorry.”

“Is that how professionals speak these days?” She responded.

“Only the best ones.” He teased, throwing a loaf of white bread into the trolley after careful consideration. There wasn’t any point spending excess money on something that would end up slathered with peanut butter anyway.

“I miss you Jihoon. When are you coming home?” His mother sighed. He hated when she did that, although she had every right to.

“When I can.” He assured her. “I miss you too.”

“Surely you can take a few days off.” She complained.

“I would have done that already, if it were an option.” Getting time off was unrealistic, considering he’d already taken a few days off when his cousin had passed away earlier in the year. Unsurprisingly, the higher ups at the company didn’t really seem to care overly much about the wellbeing of their staff. Catering to the needs of those upholding the company reputation wasn’t in the employment package, apparently.

“Hyunsuk was home just the other day…” She drifted off. “He told us about your promotion.” He stopped walking, huffing a laugh, because he’d only told Junkyu that piece of information. “Why are we hearing about life events from your friends?”

“Yes, I got a new office.” Jihoon continued walking, making his way to the freezer section of the store. “ _And_ a pay rise.”

“Jihoon.” She said sternly.

“I’ll be home for New Year’s.” He promised. Or at least, it was as good as a promise, because he’d been using loose wording like ‘soon’ for a while and he’d finally given it a date.

“Thankyou.” She said, as if it were a chore for him to be coming back. “We’re throwing a party this year, so it’ll be great to have you there.”

“Can’t wait.” His eyes scanned the ice cream aisle carefully, grabbing a tub of plain vanilla as he failed to find what he’d been looking for.

“You should bring someone.” His mother suggested softly. She always remained hopeful in that department. “I mean, if-”

“I’m not seeing anyone.” Jihoon interrupted.

“Still?” She asked.

“Heartbreak takes its toll, you know?” He sighed audibly.

“Nonsense.” She cut him off. “You hardly saw her. I’m not excusing… well, you know. But you weren’t exactly _present_ in the relationship, Jihoon. You know I love you, despite your flaws... so I’ll just say… you’re very… socially inept at the best of times.”

“I love you too.” He said flatly.

“God, you’re like a brick wall!” She exclaimed. “Even your father isn’t this difficult.”

“That can’t be true.” He argued. “I’ve been told I’m the new and improved version of that man.”

“Well _that man_ has managed to keep a woman for longer than you’ve been alive, so he’s beating you there.”

“Check mate.” Jihoon admitted defeat.

“You should think about getting out and dating again. There’s plenty of lovely single women that are in their later years like you!”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” He began placing his items onto the counter. “Your circadian rhythm will be disrupted. Have you read up on the effects of sleep deprivation in older people?”

“My new heart medication keeps me up.” He frowned slightly at the words. She hadn’t told him she was on heart medication in the first place.

“Are you taking care of yourself?” His voice went softer.

“I’m more worried about you than I am about myself.” His mother harped on.

“I’m fine.” He reiterated. “I’m happy, healthy and most importantly, my blood alcohol levels are at an all-time low.”

“That’s great, Jihoon.” She acknowledged. “That’s a good step in the right direction.”

She’d meant it as a compliment. As a form of reassurance, of course. But Jihoon couldn’t quite help but feel painfully inadequate every single time she referred to his achievements as a ‘step’. Because she’d been doing that his entire life, every sports award, every good grade, every job he’d ever gotten. He was yet to find out just where it was that he was stepping toward.

“Thanks.” He replied.

“Hey, listen honey.” His mother started. “I didn’t call for no particular reason. Mrs Choi is having a milestone birthday.”

“Right.” He swiped his card and input his pin, thanking the cashier with a nod as he exited the store briskly.

“She wants you there, of course. She said Hyunsuk has been trying to get in contact with you for weeks. Is that true?”

“Potentially.” 

“Jihoon, why can’t you just be straight with me?” She sounded exasperated by now. It was understandable, Jihoon apparently had that effect on people.

“I’ve changed my number.” He admitted. “He could be calling my old number, I haven’t had the phone long.”

"Well give him your new number, won't you?" She sighed. "And tell him I say hi."

"Of course." He assured her, "I have somewhere to be Mom, talk soon." 

After a long period of sitting in silence, Jihoon pulled out of the parking lot. He made a mental note to call in to the bottle shop on the way home.

***

He no longer drank, but Jihoon used to love alcohol. Not the way you’d love a partner, or the way Asahi loved Pokémon. Rather, he kept going back, no matter how much crushing it inflicted on every aspect of his life, and so Jihoon thought love was the best way to describe it. Weakness was a more appropriate way of putting it. Dependency, addiction, various synonyms were adequate descriptors.

He’d been arguably too young when he’d tried his first drink. He and Hyunsuk had been the same age, actually. In the western way, at least, the whole thing taking place in the small gap where the two of them would be the same age, had they grown up outside of Korea. They’d made a deal to try it together in preparation for a party they’d been invited to where they knew they would have to drink. Have to, being, _want_ to, as they were both painfully starved of the female gaze at the time. Which was precisely another reason to drink, because Jihoon’s third girlfriend had just dumped him for reasons unbeknownst to Jihoon, and apparently drinking was how you responded in situations like that. 

“This is all Dad had in the pantry.” Hyunsuk’s grip on the bottle was tight, as if he were scared any looseness in his hands would leave it shattered in pieces on his bedroom floor. There was good reason too, as his hands shook the most Jihoon had ever seen, bar the time they’d gotten locked inside of the school toilets together in the middle of winter. “I think it’s Irish.” The ‘product of Ireland’ printed in English on the front was enough to back up the statement.

“It looks disgusting.” Jihoon snatched the bottle, holding it up to the light and squinting judgmentally. It resembled something you’d see someone drinking in Game of Thrones. “Why is it green?”

“The bottle is green.” Hyunsuk corrected him, huffing out a laugh. “It looks more like dehydrated piss, actually.” He laughed again, in satisfaction this time, when Jihoon cringed.

“Gross.” Jihoon huffed.

“You’re gross.” Hyunsuk shot back, reclaiming the bottle and popping open the top like it was second nature. “My parents get me to pour them a glass sometimes.” He told Jihoon, reading his thoughts like they were his own. “Here.” He handed Jihoon the cup, eyes twinkling nervously as he went to pour his own.

“Same time?” Jihoon proposed, once their hands were both occupied. He and Hyunsuk were mirroring the same scared excitement on their faces as they grinned at one another.

Hyunsuk tipped his glass back before even answering, spluttering as he screamed something about it burning. Jihoon followed suit, drinking through his laughter before he understood why Hyunsuk was dying off to the side, joining him in choking on the now-stomached liquid.

“Holy shit.” Jihoon choked out raspily. “Am I breathing fire?” He blew out of his mouth obnoxiously and Hyunsuk burst out laughing, covering his face with his hands.

“You look like a fish.” He laughed brightly, making Jihoon instinctively flinch, as if he were physically radiating light. A part of him had always wanted to punch Hyunsuk square in the face for having such perfect teeth, especially then, given his own mouth was aching slightly from his braces being adjusted the day before.

“That. Was. Disgusting.” Jihoon slammed his glass onto the carpet hastily and Hyunsuk wrapped a hand around it, not trusting Jihoon to not spill the dregs onto the fabric. His hand was warm, face looking even warmer as it was flushed slightly red, despite neither of them being affected by the alcohol yet. “More.”

“If you throw up on my carpet-” Hyunsuk frowned, shutting up as Jihoon clapped a hand over his mouth rudely. His eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance, but Jihoon paid it no mind.

“Relax.” He nudged Hyunsuk, making him bobble slightly as he sat across from him. “It’s the smaller person who has to worry anyway. Your tolerance is probably lower than a limbo bar at a toddler’s birthday party.”

“You’re the worst, you know that?” Hyunsuk sighed in defeat, pouring Jihoon a second glass. He was smiling as he said it, though. The dangly bits of his hoodie swayed from side to side as he adjusted himself closer to the other boy. His blonde hair had turned a cheesy yellow under the lightbulb in his bedroom, brown regrowth teasing at the roots. He’d started putting more effort into his appearance by then, style improving immensely to fit his newfound persona he showcased around others, and Jihoon wasn’t quite sure who he was trying to impress.

“twenty-one steps to the bathroom is no big thing.” Jihoon’s eyes watered as he chugged a large amount of the liquid in his cup. Hyunsuk was seemingly unsurprised about his friend having a mental map of his house floorplans. “I’ll make off running the second my stomach starts screaming.”

“Or you could just not get to that point at all.” His friend had suggested. Despite this, he too had started on his second glass. The next day they’d regret not checking the alcohol content of the wicked Irish drink, too preoccupied with throwing each other insults and competing over tolerance levels.

Doing his usual, Jihoon tactfully ignored every decent suggestion Hyunsuk had made about slowing down, drinking some water, eating something more substantial than a convenience store donut, and so he had nobody to blame but himself when he was keeled over the toilet within a matter of hours. Possibly a single hour, _possibly_ , but he altered his memory to better serve his ego in later life. One hour would have been embarrassing, after all. Hyunsuk, in all of his plastered glory, was kneeled down beside him, looking a dangerously similar green hue to Jihoon as he wiped pieces of regurgitated donut off of his own toilet seat.

“You’re seriously the worst.” Jihoon’s best friend huffed out. Although the worst mustn’t have been too bad, as Hyunsuk didn’t leave Jihoon’s side until they were both hungover, legs tangled together as they began to fall asleep on Hyunsuk’s bed.

“Whose idea was this?” Jihoon croaked out, voice muffled as he pressed his face into Hyunsuk’s chest. The older boy had an arm draped over him lazily, tracing circles on his shoulder as his breathing began to slow.

“It was a bad idea.” Which was enough of an answer, but he went on. “Obviously, yours.” And Jihoon laughed at that, voice coming out hoarser than he’d ever heard it from the combination of alcohol, sheer tiredness and the amount of time the pair had spent laughing.

“I feel like I’m dying.” Jihoon groaned, curling further into Hyunsuk’s hoodie. It had smelt like the washing powder his mother had been using since they’d met. Back at home, Jihoon had a mound full of various items he’d pinched from Hyunsuk’s wardrobe, never getting around to returning them, but never really planning to either. Hyunsuk never asked, so Jihoon simply kept them around, strung across pieces of furniture and shoved in random drawers.

“You’re fine.” Hyunsuk laughed shakily, breathing against Jihoon’s hair lightly.

“Imagine if we’d actually waited until the party to drink.” Jihoon cringed at the thought. Hyunsuk just laughed, probably at Jihoon, because he totally would have spent the entire party throwing up and Hyunsuk would have been right beside his side, just as he had been that night.

“I’m glad I tried it with you.” Hyunsuk admitted quietly.

“Amen.” Jihoon agreed. “I wouldn’t let anyone else see me in this state.”

“I didn’t know eyes could roll so far back into someones skull until you started projectile vomiting.” Hyunsuk laughed through his nose.

“That’s the facial expression I get whenever I open my mouth.” Jihoon shot back dryly.

“You do say some interesting stuff.” Interesting very clearly meaning _weird_ , but his voice was devoid of judgement. Jihoon was weird, he knew that. Everyone knew that. Hyunsuk accepted it. That was the difference.

“Maybe that’s why I’m single again.” Jihoon sighed, shifting so that his head was leaning on Hyunsuk’s chest.

“You’re single again because things didn’t work out.” He ran a hand through Jihoon’s hair. “Shit happens.”

“I didn’t even get to give her the roses I stole from your neighbour.” Jihoon complained. He’d waited until the early hours of the morning to poach them from the grumpy old lady that lived next door.

Hyunsuk tilted Jihoon’s chin up so they were face to face, peering into each other's eyes. “Stop stealing from my neighbours, jackass. They’ll think it’s me.”

“The only place I’m stealing from is the soil.” Jihoon preached. The condition of the roses was so dire that he’d technically been rescuing them, anyway.

“I’m sure that’ll hold up in court.” Hyunsuk shot back sarcastically.

“The system is flawed.” He sighed. "The world needs a little vigilante justice every now and then."

“I thought giving roses was considered _stooping_ , anyway.” Hyunsuk questioned.

“I suggested peonies. She said they were hideous.” He scrunched up his face in judgement. "Of course, she was conditioned to think that way. Can't help it, really."

“They’re a bit funny looking… aren’t they the marriage flower anyway?” Hyunsuk was looking away now, eyes averted to stare at a spot behind Jihoon's head. 

“Well I’m sure she wouldn’t interpret them _that_ way. We dated for a month.” Jihoon responded flatly. 

“I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t interpret them at all.”

“Not if I gift them with an explanation of what they symbolize!” He'd tried that before, in one of his previous relationships. Clearly it didn't go too well, given he'd dated quite a few girls since then.

“Doesn’t that destroy it a little?”

“No.” Jihoon huffed, infuriated. “It destroys it completely. I’m going to die alone, or worse, in a relationship where my romantic gestures go untranslated!”

“You’ll find your Princess Fiona.” Hyunsuk started, and Jihoon laughed at the reference. “And they’ll understand your weird Victorian flower language and listen to your constant rambling about topics only you’re interested in, and you’ll give them flowers and they’ll _know_ what you meant. Then you’ll know they’re the one.”

“Shrek is a fairy tale.” Jihoon chuckled weakly.

“There’s a lesson in there somewhere.” Hyunsuk muttered, eyes not leaving the roof.

“Yeah.” Jihoon agreed. “Be careful who you marry because they might turn into she-hulk when the sun sets.”

Hyunsuk laughed, squeezing Jihoon's arm. “That’s _one_ interpretation.”

“That’s my take.” Jihoon yawned, rubbing his eyes and shifting himself closer to Hyunsuk, as if he were going to try escape at any given moment. 

It was early enough that the birds outside had began to chirp, an orange tint shining through the gap in the curtain subtly enough that it caught the glint in Hyunsuk’s eyes. Jihoon’s breathing slowed, and the steady rhythm of Hyunsuk’s chest rising and falling sending him off to sleep within minutes.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to check out my [twitter](https://twitter.com/chyunsie?s=20) for any updates !
> 
> my dms are always open to chat <3


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